Featureless
by DarkTheDead
Summary: As time goes on, the more they fight, the more they lose, even if they never lost the battle. The more they fight, the more they win, the more they lose, and it doesn't matter. A Samus POV and views/feelings of her life up until now.


A/N: The song is 'Dark Angel' by VNV Nation. I do not own Samus Aran, nor do I own any of the Metroid games. I don't even own the song. I only own the thoughts, and the way they were expressed, however badly they have been. The song lyrics are between the '--'.  
  
.:Summary:.  
Sometimes, a person should stick to what they do best. But other times, a person will have to strive to defeat their inner weaknesses, as well as their physical ones. And as time goes on, the more the fight, the more they lose, even if they never lost the battle. The more they fight, the more they win, the more they lose, and it doesn't matter. Because, even if their bodies lived, their minds were already dead. Innocence lost needlessly, but that is just the game that life plays on us all. If only the strong did survive, instead of those who called themselves strong. A brutal clash for survival between the strong of mind, and strong of heart. No one can win. This story is about the woman who saves, but cannot be saved.  
  
Samus Aran, the greatest Bounty Hunter anyone had ever seen.  
  
-Featureless-  
  
Isn't it amusing? It is absolutely thrilling. What is, you ask? Well, isn't my suit beautiful?  
  
A gleaming suit of metal that adheres and forms perfectly to my body. A second skin. My face behind a seamless mask, a visor. I can see all, but no one can see my face, for I am not of a greatness to be had.  
  
No one cares.  
  
I am reveled. The hero. I saved a planet. I saved a species. I destroyed the metroids. Mother Brain was annihilated. I am a hero. I am -the- hero.  
  
But no one cares.  
  
Doesn't everyone want a hero? Yet, everyone seems to want to be one. There are those that scream for inventions, for scientific discoveries, for more ways to destroy each other, for more ways to cause pain.   
  
--  
In your dream you see me clear  
I have no restraint, no fear  
Powerless I watched from faces I'd assumed.  
My purpose set. My will defined.  
Caress the air.  
Embrace the skies.  
Escape the sorrow and restraint of mortal cities.  
--  
  
I only do a job to get it done. I have an obligation to the people. I am the hero, apparently. I have to save and destroy.  
  
Oh god... The blood. The blood is unbelievably strong. The smell. The taste. The texture is so appalling, yet so addicting. The taste is disgusting, but I lust for it. I hate it as I love it. Mine or another's.  
  
--  
Give me time I will be clear.  
Given time you'll understand  
What possesses me to right what you have suffered.  
I'm in this mood because of scorn.  
I'm in a mood for total war.  
To the darkened skies once more and ever onward.  
--  
  
Countless creatures I have killed, and countless times I have wondered, could I have avoided unneeded death? Who am I to deal out death and judgment, when I cannot give life?  
  
A simple exploration of a city who claims me to be a hero, and all who look upon me cower. They fear me. It's always easier to believe that the hero is just a machine. After all, who am I to deal out judgment?  
  
I didn't even want to do this. I don't remember what my original intentions were, and I don't know who I am. Who am I?  
  
What am I?  
  
What have I become?  
  
I have died. My mind is dead, proper burial and burial rights long sung. My body moves, and my death watches. I travel in dark, I travel in light, but no one cares.  
  
They only care for the hero to help them. To save them. They could not care if the hero had died, and could not care if the hero had once contained actual feelings. Emotions are frivolous to the hero, the machine, the human with the superhuman capabilities. It can't hurt to kill, because it can't feel.  
  
--  
So many years I stood among the thoughts  
and tears of those I served.  
Among my own I was alone through my own doing.  
All the years I walked unknown  
behind the faces I assumed.  
Powerless to clear your mind of what you'd suffered.  
--  
  
Humans are very emotional creatures. I know this, because I believed myself to have been one. I don't know what I have become, as I lay here in the puddle of blood of another creature. Or is it mine own? I do not know. I cannot feel.  
  
I am the hero. The perfect bounty hunter and hero.  
  
--  
They fall again.  
They fall again.  
--  
  
I killed them. All of them. They're all dead. They all died. They keep coming, they kept coming. But I killed them. No. I slaughtered them. They're bodies litter the ground they had once tried to protect. I wonder if what they did, and what they believed, were the same. Had they not seen that what they were doing was wrong? Or had they seen what they did as a righteous act to help themselves, and perhaps others?  
  
What if I'm the one who is wrong? Will I be slaughtered? I cannot wait for that day.  
  
Perhaps I'm not even on a foreign land, but in my own ship upon the cold metal floor. My own blood pooling around me, staining the already stained floors. I've already died, I cannot feel.  
  
--  
Give me time I will be clear.  
Given time you'll understand  
What possesses me to right what you have suffered.  
I'm in this mood because of scorn.  
I'm in a mood for total war.  
To the darkened skies once more and ever onward.  
There is no faith in which to hide.  
Even truth is filled with lies.  
Doubting angels fall to walk among the living.  
I'm in this mood because of scorn.  
I'm in a mood for total war.  
To the darkened skies once more and ever onward.  
--  
  
So does that mean I will achieve peace? I cannot be saved, and the numbing is the only feeling of the nonexistent feelings. I cannot see, because I see everything, and I see in red.  
  
Everything is red. Everything is crimson. Crimson blood, staining everything. My hands are stained, no matter how clean they were, and no matter if they were always hidden within a metal glove, a second skin, the perfect suit.  
  
Is there a god?   
  
Does it matter?  
  
--  
I'd only come here seeking peace.  
I'd only come here seeking me.  
--  
  
I'm already dead, and I wish for so many things. I greed for it, I lust after it. The things that the delinquents take for granted. Life. Love.  
  
Perhaps happiness. I wouldn't know, since I've never felt anything. And if I did, I wouldn't remember. I cannot feel anymore, so it doesn't matter.  
  
If only.  
If only...  
  
--  
It seems I came to leave.  
-- 


End file.
